Inkspell/Inkheart is done...
Fandom: Inkheart/Inkspell
Pairing: DustfingerxFarid
Theme set: DELTA
Rating: PG-13 (Suggestive metaphors...)
EDIT: These are all mildly not in context with the actual books... so if you think I'm crazy, I'll tell you now I did it on purpose... XD
#01 - Air
It was dirtier, full of noise, scents, smells, things he sometimes did not completely understand, and the forests lacked the whispers of creatures he missed most; the fire-dancer admired how the boy from his own book world, with his dark ink hair and deep eyes the color of the bark of Wayless Wood, had adapted so quickly.
#02 - Apples
They were sweet, thick, juicy and to Farid they were comparable to the fruits he had lifted from dusty-faced fruit stands on dusty streets; he wondered how they could possibly taste better until one day Dustfinger had shared an apple with him and he had watched the flame-tamer lick the juice from his fire-tempting fingers.
#03 - Beginning
Orange-yellow lumination flickered across the scarred flesh of his cheeks where Basta's knife had once tried to rob the fair-faced beauty that had once been Dustfinger's; when Farid had first laid eyes upon the quiet man, he loved him at once - scars, fire, silence and all.
#04 - Bugs
Once Dustfinger had pulled Farid out of sleep to show him how to tempt fireflies from their mating dance to come to his flame with a candle; Farid never forgot the fireflies, but it was just the gentle, tingling touch of Dustfinger's hand stroking the back of his neck as the fireflies spiralled around the candle so close to their eyes.
#05 - Coffee
Dustfinger stroked his back after the boy tasted coffee for the first time thereby instigating a violent, racking coughing fit that left his eyes watering and his cheeks hot with a different kind of fire.
#06 - Dark
Give me a match, he said; crouching in the grass, Farid fished one from his hole-eaten blue jeans, handed it over, then watched as Dustfinger, with little more than a loving caress, coaxed the flame to erupt from the crimson tip and suddenly, Farid realized that they had made this tiny flame, like a tiny life, together.
#07 - Despair
There were times when Dustfinger would cry, without tears, without noise, and sit out at night near the base of a sycamore tree and watch the leaves for spirits to appear in between, and Farid would watch from close by and weep for the places that Dustfinger had loved so much and lost so quickly.
#08 - Doors
Farid was good at unlocking the ones he had no keys for; Dustfinger was good at bringing light into the darkness beyond them.
#09 - Drink
The taste of rain on his tongue somehow in some disconnected way reminded him that Dustfinger never cried out loud, at least not when Farid was around, and he wondered if his tears tasted just as salty as his when he burned his fingers, practicing his skills at juggling fire.
#10 - Duty
Farid's only duty was to remain loyal to his new friend; it wasn't just because he had nowhere else to go but because his new friend had no real duties of his own, just sort of floated from place to place searching for the magic voice that would read him home again.
#11 - Earth
Sleeping on the cold, hard dirt: uncomfortable; sleeping on the cold, hard dirt snuggled up next to a man almost made of fire was more than tolerable because at this range, Farid could imagine himself to sleep of tangling his fingers in those long dark locks of hair and breathing the scent from the tousled strands.
#12 - End
Farid didn't know what would become of Dustfinger, but he had suspicions that it could never be good; Meggie confirmed this when she told him that Dustfinger died at the end of "Inkheart" - after that, well, sometimes when the fire-tamer looked off, longing for home, it felt like Dustfinger was already gone.
#13 - Fall
When the boy fell, he just picked himself back up again even when he was gushing blood from a number of new scrapes; it was like pain could never impede the flooding gush of joy that filled his heart with every new bright spark he could in life, and Dustfinger envied him.
#14 - Fire
Twisting, spinning, soaring, roaring, whispering, flickering brightness, light, tongues of red lust and joy that tasted the air and licked at his naked chest without burning; Farid wanted to speak that language that made the flames love him and maybe, when he learned how, he could speak that forbidden tongue (O arcane speech, fall from my lips like drops of sweet, embracing heat) and get Dustfinger to love him.
#15 - Flexible
Farid never attempted splits again; it was one of the many things that only Dustfinger could perform beautifully, legs splayed so that every muscle stood out, stretched taut against his pilfered, scratched up, dirty jeans and forcing Farid's mind to imagine just what such muscles would feel like beneath the rough skin of his palms; Farid stared until Dustfinger cleared his throat, catching his eye flashed sheepish smile of his own.
#16 - Flying
Gymnastics were hard to do on the grass in the afternoon when the sun was growing cold there on the fae horizon; but with Dustfinger there behind, beside, around him, guiding him into motions of grace that would eventually help Farid be just like him, it felt like he was soaring on new wings of phoenix fire.
#17 - Food
Whatever they could pilfer or buy somehow, they ate together; each meal was a feast and they could not have asked for better company.
#18 - Foot
Walking hurt his bleeding feet, especially when put to the harsh pavement of Meggie's world, but it was well worth the journey when he could find the other calmly striding along beside him, just as scared and full of pain as Farid, even if they were for different reasons.
#19 - Grave
The distinctly vindictive horned marten Gwin, Dustfinger's pet from the Inkworld, was a living grave that walked in Dustfinger's footprints like a mark of sin, and it gave Farid soul-rattling chills when Dustfinger mourned for his own world, for the taste of the air that would fill his lungs when he died, ignorant of his destruction; Farid, in desperation and fear, no longer knew whether to tell him that he was going to die or to just keep it to himself so when he told Dustfinger (I love you, please, please don't leave me) it would not seem as horribly, crushingly unfair.
#20 - Green
Farid loved everything about his fire-devouring companion, every confident step, every smile, however rare, and every time he looked into his jade eyes he could swear that beyond the spirit-numbing fire that burned within, there was something that was like devotion, no matter how many times he insisted he would leave him someday.
#21 - Head
It was cradled in Dustfinger's soot-covered hands; again, Farid promised himself that he would never worry Dustfinger like that, but he loved the feel of his fingertips brushing his tear-stained cheeks.
#22 - Hollow
Hollow was how he felt whenever Dustfinger calmly reminded him that Farid was not going back with him to the Inkworld - that no matter what, he would leave him behind with Meggie and that was the end of it; but he was fulfilled when the same lips poured forth the fire of his devotion, skin to skin, in the Stygian black of this alien world.
#23 - Honor
Farid knew there was honor among thieves because he was one himself, until Dustfinger told him a little bit about the Black Prince and his bear, and how he looked after those who depended on him; it shamed the boy to realize that much of what he had known was a farce, and real honor truly was a thing of stories.
#24 - Hope
When he first tasted his lips on his, Farid had thought it had been some kind of cruel accident until, suddenly, he felt a rising heat in his cheeks and he hoped, as Dustfinger caressed his desert-darkened skin with a fleeting sensation not-quite-tenderness and almost-like-need, that this would "accidently" happen again.
#25 - Light
His feet felt like they would stop touching the ground whenever Farid looked at him with such puppy-dog lust, and it would have been innocent if it was not for the way the boy kept chewing his lip as if trying to force them to remember the ghost-like memory of their first kiss.
#26 - Lost
Once, at a traveling fair, Farid had lost track of Dustfinger in the crowd, having been distracted by the brightly colored animals behind a vender was vying to give away if one could pierce large, air-filled objects nailed to a square plank of wood; when he found him, gasping and out of breath, Dustfinger was laying back on the grass far from sight, staring up into the sky and silently weeping.
#27 - Metal
Dustfinger could be warm as a homely fire or as cold as steel, but whatever the temperature of his heart, the boy could never stop loving every degree of his nature.
#28 - New
The newness of clothes did not really seem to fit the fire magician properly; Farid could look normal if he was wearing a casual suit, but for some reason, Dustfinger looked better wearing anything that had seen better days.
#29 - Old
Rumpled, careworn, beautiful; these were the words that came to mind whenever Dustfinger emerged anew from the forbidden darkness, nude only to the unseeing eyes of shadow, and Farid could appreciate just what those shadows saw by trying to feel the number of folds with just his eyes alone.
#30 - Peace
It was a challenge living the way he did, but Farid made the days a little better when failure prevailed.
#31 - Poison
Loving Dustfinger was like swallowing poison every day; he knew he would never love him back as much as he loved his world, because in his heart Dustfinger was married to everyone and everything in that long-begotten realm, and never would he look back to see the lonely, dark-haired boy he had abandoned to regain it.
#32 - Pretty
It was pretty difficult, pretty hard, pretty painful, but most of all, it was pretty much worth it when Dustfinger touched his soul with fire and brought him searingly back into the only reality left to him: Dustfinger himself.
#33 - Rain
Farid looked particularly poignant when he ran like a child through the puddles, and then returned to his side to take his hand and pull him out into the downpour; even though Dustfinger hated getting wet, he didn't mind the constant press of Farid's soaked skin against his when the boy tore off his shirt and let the pounding precipitation cleanse him.
#34 - Regret
Sometimes Dustfinger was full of should-have-could-have-would-have's; Farid never once felt it, except when Dustfinger became angry, temporarily banishing him - that was when Farid came back, and the fire magician didn't regret quickly forgiving and holding him again.
#35 - Roses
Dark, crimson petals awaited him when Dustfinger returned, exhausted and broken, from yet another failed attempt to be spirited back into his own world; in the center, Farid - blushing, beautiful and uncharacteristically quiet Farid who beseeched him in innocent silence to come near, press his body into the aromatic rose petals and promise with his skin and his heat to never leave again.
#36 - Secret
Promising to keep secrets from one another, of course, was about as effective as starting a fire with water; Farid knew that Dustfinger would do anything to go home, just as he knew Farid would do anything to follow him.
#37 - Snakes
Dustfinger could swear Farid could speak to them; being from the book he originated from, the fire magician wasn't surprised when Farid yanked on his arm just before Dustfinger nearly stepped on a poisonous serpent whose bite could have easily killed him in minutes.
#38 - Snow
When Farid saw it for the first time, his eyes lit up with something like superstitious wonder; the next week, Dustfinger had already tried to fend off eight snowballs, counted six snow angels, and then tend to the boy who had spent too much time playing in the snow and not enough time dressing warm.
#39 - Solid
It was insubstantial, not-quite-tangible, like fire which only burnt if you tempted its spiteful fingers; yet Dustfinger's gaze was surely a solid thing, because Farid swore he felt it every time it descended upon him.
#40 - Spring
Farid danced with fire, but never as good as his companion, whose body bent like a bow in the light of the fire he made, leaping high above the flames so that they licked his heels before he came flowing gracefully back to earth like an angel born of Heaven and Hell.
#41 - Stable
Balanced on his shoulders, Farid plucked the fruit from the tree, marveling at the strength beneath his thighs; he slid down with the apple between his teeth, and his skin prickled behind his legs whenever he thought about the steady rock that Dustfinger represented in his life, for he would have crashed to the earth if it weren't for him.
#42 - Strange
What an odd pair, a dark-skinned boy and a man whose face was ragged with three pale scars, holding hands as they crossed the street; puzzling, because they both looked oddly out of place but perfectly normal side-by-side.
#43 - Summer
Farid knew it wasn't a summer of love, but it was more like a summer of swimming lessons, cold fruit, and Dustfinger, peerless in beauty, shirtless in the sun.
#44 - Taboo
As Dustfinger watched Farid wash, naked from the waist up, in a surrealistic stream, the scarred man reminded himself that in his own world he would have had his eyes burned out for the way he watched with such shameless admiration.
#45 - Ugly
"You're not," he insisted for the last time, anger and concern on his tongue as he pushed Dustfinger down onto the dirt; this was just before he kissed him, just before the words he had spoken made Dustfinger weak with unhappy skepticism, when Dustfinger had commented off-hand how ugly he must appear to strangers.
#46 - War
Farid felt the emotions twisting inside his unfamiliarized heart, and went to bed at night wishing he were as numb as the dirt beneath his tear-stained cheek.
#47 - Water
Their bodies slid together neatly - wetwarmhotcold, gasping, clutching, clawing at bare skin - and Farid was slowly learning how to hold his breath under water, even when he wasn't submerged.
#48 - Welcome
The first cold night was a nightmare unto itself; Farid stayed awake contemplating the peculiar heat that seemed prevalent in his companion's flesh as he held him tight, and it didn't help that his body spoke in whispers that the boy could not yet understand... but at least he was warm.
#49 - Winter
For some who commanded the spirit of fire so flawlessly, Farid hated that he had a heart made of ice when he wanted it to be; yet in the same moment, Dustfinger could pull him from Farid's too-complicated ponderings and capture his love with a flicker of heat in his gaze.
#50 - Wood
Fire needed to be fed, like any living creature, but Farid knew Dustfinger better than that - or pretended he did - so he never stopped telling him how much he loved him, in all the things he did and in all the ways he touched and spoke.
Pairing: DustfingerxFarid
Theme set: DELTA
Rating: PG-13 (Suggestive metaphors...)
EDIT: These are all mildly not in context with the actual books... so if you think I'm crazy, I'll tell you now I did it on purpose... XD
#01 - Air
It was dirtier, full of noise, scents, smells, things he sometimes did not completely understand, and the forests lacked the whispers of creatures he missed most; the fire-dancer admired how the boy from his own book world, with his dark ink hair and deep eyes the color of the bark of Wayless Wood, had adapted so quickly.
#02 - Apples
They were sweet, thick, juicy and to Farid they were comparable to the fruits he had lifted from dusty-faced fruit stands on dusty streets; he wondered how they could possibly taste better until one day Dustfinger had shared an apple with him and he had watched the flame-tamer lick the juice from his fire-tempting fingers.
#03 - Beginning
Orange-yellow lumination flickered across the scarred flesh of his cheeks where Basta's knife had once tried to rob the fair-faced beauty that had once been Dustfinger's; when Farid had first laid eyes upon the quiet man, he loved him at once - scars, fire, silence and all.
#04 - Bugs
Once Dustfinger had pulled Farid out of sleep to show him how to tempt fireflies from their mating dance to come to his flame with a candle; Farid never forgot the fireflies, but it was just the gentle, tingling touch of Dustfinger's hand stroking the back of his neck as the fireflies spiralled around the candle so close to their eyes.
#05 - Coffee
Dustfinger stroked his back after the boy tasted coffee for the first time thereby instigating a violent, racking coughing fit that left his eyes watering and his cheeks hot with a different kind of fire.
#06 - Dark
Give me a match, he said; crouching in the grass, Farid fished one from his hole-eaten blue jeans, handed it over, then watched as Dustfinger, with little more than a loving caress, coaxed the flame to erupt from the crimson tip and suddenly, Farid realized that they had made this tiny flame, like a tiny life, together.
#07 - Despair
There were times when Dustfinger would cry, without tears, without noise, and sit out at night near the base of a sycamore tree and watch the leaves for spirits to appear in between, and Farid would watch from close by and weep for the places that Dustfinger had loved so much and lost so quickly.
#08 - Doors
Farid was good at unlocking the ones he had no keys for; Dustfinger was good at bringing light into the darkness beyond them.
#09 - Drink
The taste of rain on his tongue somehow in some disconnected way reminded him that Dustfinger never cried out loud, at least not when Farid was around, and he wondered if his tears tasted just as salty as his when he burned his fingers, practicing his skills at juggling fire.
#10 - Duty
Farid's only duty was to remain loyal to his new friend; it wasn't just because he had nowhere else to go but because his new friend had no real duties of his own, just sort of floated from place to place searching for the magic voice that would read him home again.
#11 - Earth
Sleeping on the cold, hard dirt: uncomfortable; sleeping on the cold, hard dirt snuggled up next to a man almost made of fire was more than tolerable because at this range, Farid could imagine himself to sleep of tangling his fingers in those long dark locks of hair and breathing the scent from the tousled strands.
#12 - End
Farid didn't know what would become of Dustfinger, but he had suspicions that it could never be good; Meggie confirmed this when she told him that Dustfinger died at the end of "Inkheart" - after that, well, sometimes when the fire-tamer looked off, longing for home, it felt like Dustfinger was already gone.
#13 - Fall
When the boy fell, he just picked himself back up again even when he was gushing blood from a number of new scrapes; it was like pain could never impede the flooding gush of joy that filled his heart with every new bright spark he could in life, and Dustfinger envied him.
#14 - Fire
Twisting, spinning, soaring, roaring, whispering, flickering brightness, light, tongues of red lust and joy that tasted the air and licked at his naked chest without burning; Farid wanted to speak that language that made the flames love him and maybe, when he learned how, he could speak that forbidden tongue (O arcane speech, fall from my lips like drops of sweet, embracing heat) and get Dustfinger to love him.
#15 - Flexible
Farid never attempted splits again; it was one of the many things that only Dustfinger could perform beautifully, legs splayed so that every muscle stood out, stretched taut against his pilfered, scratched up, dirty jeans and forcing Farid's mind to imagine just what such muscles would feel like beneath the rough skin of his palms; Farid stared until Dustfinger cleared his throat, catching his eye flashed sheepish smile of his own.
#16 - Flying
Gymnastics were hard to do on the grass in the afternoon when the sun was growing cold there on the fae horizon; but with Dustfinger there behind, beside, around him, guiding him into motions of grace that would eventually help Farid be just like him, it felt like he was soaring on new wings of phoenix fire.
#17 - Food
Whatever they could pilfer or buy somehow, they ate together; each meal was a feast and they could not have asked for better company.
#18 - Foot
Walking hurt his bleeding feet, especially when put to the harsh pavement of Meggie's world, but it was well worth the journey when he could find the other calmly striding along beside him, just as scared and full of pain as Farid, even if they were for different reasons.
#19 - Grave
The distinctly vindictive horned marten Gwin, Dustfinger's pet from the Inkworld, was a living grave that walked in Dustfinger's footprints like a mark of sin, and it gave Farid soul-rattling chills when Dustfinger mourned for his own world, for the taste of the air that would fill his lungs when he died, ignorant of his destruction; Farid, in desperation and fear, no longer knew whether to tell him that he was going to die or to just keep it to himself so when he told Dustfinger (I love you, please, please don't leave me) it would not seem as horribly, crushingly unfair.
#20 - Green
Farid loved everything about his fire-devouring companion, every confident step, every smile, however rare, and every time he looked into his jade eyes he could swear that beyond the spirit-numbing fire that burned within, there was something that was like devotion, no matter how many times he insisted he would leave him someday.
#21 - Head
It was cradled in Dustfinger's soot-covered hands; again, Farid promised himself that he would never worry Dustfinger like that, but he loved the feel of his fingertips brushing his tear-stained cheeks.
#22 - Hollow
Hollow was how he felt whenever Dustfinger calmly reminded him that Farid was not going back with him to the Inkworld - that no matter what, he would leave him behind with Meggie and that was the end of it; but he was fulfilled when the same lips poured forth the fire of his devotion, skin to skin, in the Stygian black of this alien world.
#23 - Honor
Farid knew there was honor among thieves because he was one himself, until Dustfinger told him a little bit about the Black Prince and his bear, and how he looked after those who depended on him; it shamed the boy to realize that much of what he had known was a farce, and real honor truly was a thing of stories.
#24 - Hope
When he first tasted his lips on his, Farid had thought it had been some kind of cruel accident until, suddenly, he felt a rising heat in his cheeks and he hoped, as Dustfinger caressed his desert-darkened skin with a fleeting sensation not-quite-tenderness and almost-like-need, that this would "accidently" happen again.
#25 - Light
His feet felt like they would stop touching the ground whenever Farid looked at him with such puppy-dog lust, and it would have been innocent if it was not for the way the boy kept chewing his lip as if trying to force them to remember the ghost-like memory of their first kiss.
#26 - Lost
Once, at a traveling fair, Farid had lost track of Dustfinger in the crowd, having been distracted by the brightly colored animals behind a vender was vying to give away if one could pierce large, air-filled objects nailed to a square plank of wood; when he found him, gasping and out of breath, Dustfinger was laying back on the grass far from sight, staring up into the sky and silently weeping.
#27 - Metal
Dustfinger could be warm as a homely fire or as cold as steel, but whatever the temperature of his heart, the boy could never stop loving every degree of his nature.
#28 - New
The newness of clothes did not really seem to fit the fire magician properly; Farid could look normal if he was wearing a casual suit, but for some reason, Dustfinger looked better wearing anything that had seen better days.
#29 - Old
Rumpled, careworn, beautiful; these were the words that came to mind whenever Dustfinger emerged anew from the forbidden darkness, nude only to the unseeing eyes of shadow, and Farid could appreciate just what those shadows saw by trying to feel the number of folds with just his eyes alone.
#30 - Peace
It was a challenge living the way he did, but Farid made the days a little better when failure prevailed.
#31 - Poison
Loving Dustfinger was like swallowing poison every day; he knew he would never love him back as much as he loved his world, because in his heart Dustfinger was married to everyone and everything in that long-begotten realm, and never would he look back to see the lonely, dark-haired boy he had abandoned to regain it.
#32 - Pretty
It was pretty difficult, pretty hard, pretty painful, but most of all, it was pretty much worth it when Dustfinger touched his soul with fire and brought him searingly back into the only reality left to him: Dustfinger himself.
#33 - Rain
Farid looked particularly poignant when he ran like a child through the puddles, and then returned to his side to take his hand and pull him out into the downpour; even though Dustfinger hated getting wet, he didn't mind the constant press of Farid's soaked skin against his when the boy tore off his shirt and let the pounding precipitation cleanse him.
#34 - Regret
Sometimes Dustfinger was full of should-have-could-have-would-have's; Farid never once felt it, except when Dustfinger became angry, temporarily banishing him - that was when Farid came back, and the fire magician didn't regret quickly forgiving and holding him again.
#35 - Roses
Dark, crimson petals awaited him when Dustfinger returned, exhausted and broken, from yet another failed attempt to be spirited back into his own world; in the center, Farid - blushing, beautiful and uncharacteristically quiet Farid who beseeched him in innocent silence to come near, press his body into the aromatic rose petals and promise with his skin and his heat to never leave again.
#36 - Secret
Promising to keep secrets from one another, of course, was about as effective as starting a fire with water; Farid knew that Dustfinger would do anything to go home, just as he knew Farid would do anything to follow him.
#37 - Snakes
Dustfinger could swear Farid could speak to them; being from the book he originated from, the fire magician wasn't surprised when Farid yanked on his arm just before Dustfinger nearly stepped on a poisonous serpent whose bite could have easily killed him in minutes.
#38 - Snow
When Farid saw it for the first time, his eyes lit up with something like superstitious wonder; the next week, Dustfinger had already tried to fend off eight snowballs, counted six snow angels, and then tend to the boy who had spent too much time playing in the snow and not enough time dressing warm.
#39 - Solid
It was insubstantial, not-quite-tangible, like fire which only burnt if you tempted its spiteful fingers; yet Dustfinger's gaze was surely a solid thing, because Farid swore he felt it every time it descended upon him.
#40 - Spring
Farid danced with fire, but never as good as his companion, whose body bent like a bow in the light of the fire he made, leaping high above the flames so that they licked his heels before he came flowing gracefully back to earth like an angel born of Heaven and Hell.
#41 - Stable
Balanced on his shoulders, Farid plucked the fruit from the tree, marveling at the strength beneath his thighs; he slid down with the apple between his teeth, and his skin prickled behind his legs whenever he thought about the steady rock that Dustfinger represented in his life, for he would have crashed to the earth if it weren't for him.
#42 - Strange
What an odd pair, a dark-skinned boy and a man whose face was ragged with three pale scars, holding hands as they crossed the street; puzzling, because they both looked oddly out of place but perfectly normal side-by-side.
#43 - Summer
Farid knew it wasn't a summer of love, but it was more like a summer of swimming lessons, cold fruit, and Dustfinger, peerless in beauty, shirtless in the sun.
#44 - Taboo
As Dustfinger watched Farid wash, naked from the waist up, in a surrealistic stream, the scarred man reminded himself that in his own world he would have had his eyes burned out for the way he watched with such shameless admiration.
#45 - Ugly
"You're not," he insisted for the last time, anger and concern on his tongue as he pushed Dustfinger down onto the dirt; this was just before he kissed him, just before the words he had spoken made Dustfinger weak with unhappy skepticism, when Dustfinger had commented off-hand how ugly he must appear to strangers.
#46 - War
Farid felt the emotions twisting inside his unfamiliarized heart, and went to bed at night wishing he were as numb as the dirt beneath his tear-stained cheek.
#47 - Water
Their bodies slid together neatly - wetwarmhotcold, gasping, clutching, clawing at bare skin - and Farid was slowly learning how to hold his breath under water, even when he wasn't submerged.
#48 - Welcome
The first cold night was a nightmare unto itself; Farid stayed awake contemplating the peculiar heat that seemed prevalent in his companion's flesh as he held him tight, and it didn't help that his body spoke in whispers that the boy could not yet understand... but at least he was warm.
#49 - Winter
For some who commanded the spirit of fire so flawlessly, Farid hated that he had a heart made of ice when he wanted it to be; yet in the same moment, Dustfinger could pull him from Farid's too-complicated ponderings and capture his love with a flicker of heat in his gaze.
#50 - Wood
Fire needed to be fed, like any living creature, but Farid knew Dustfinger better than that - or pretended he did - so he never stopped telling him how much he loved him, in all the things he did and in all the ways he touched and spoke.